


Dinner Guest

by Taelle



Series: At the Edge of the Sea [2]
Category: The Silmarillion - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:45:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taelle/pseuds/Taelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alder brings his guest home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner Guest

_Time and place indefinite_

The most difficult part proved to be dragging the singer through the village towards their home. Alder never appreciated the closeness of his parents' house to the sea as he did today.

The singer was... frightened. Yes, definitely frightened, Alder decided, and was suddenly so horrified that he almost let the man go. Seeing the lost expression on the beautiful face, the fear in the grey eyes, Alder was ashamed to be the cause of this man's pain.

But then he thought better. Even if he let him go, what then? The singer will bolt, disappear in the windy greyness that surrounded the village. Where would he go? How much more could he wander like this, cold and tired and alone? Alder swallowed, trying to get rid of a sudden lump in his throat.

He stepped before the singer, suddenly noticing just how tall the man was. Alder himself was tall for fisher folk, already his father's height, and he might even grow a bit taller - it was in the family. But he still had to look up to see the singer's eyes.

"Don't be afraid," Alder said softly, his hand hovering in the air over the man's wounded one, afraid to hurt him if he touched more. "It will be just a dinner. We often have folks passing through for dinner. This is just the way things are done here. And you'll like mother's cooking. She made fish pie today, from the fresh catch..."

He went on, babbling something more about dinner and almost not paying attention to what he was saying. Inside Alder was faintly horrified with himself. What was he doing? He stood there with a grown-up stranger, someone who probably went places much further than the fair, and treating him like some scared sick child. Worse, almost touching him like he would touch one of the guys. It would be small wonder if the man just pushed him away or something. His clothes were worn, but still quality showed - so he wasn't poor, and might even have a weapon, a real one.

Then he shook his head. It was impossible to imagine this sad beautiful man attacking anyone. No, Alder did not fear him - he feared

for

him, and hoped he did not offend one he so wanted to help.

"... so," he finished a little inanely, "it will be a good dinner."

And then he saw something that filled him with sudden warmth and joy: the singer smiled. It was a small smile, and sadness still lingered in his eyes, but it was real - and there was no fear now.

After that they arrived home fairly quickly. Alder led the singer inside, and instantly the familiar noises and smells surrounded him, but it felt a little new, too - he tried to imagine how his house would look to a stranger.

Of course he failed. To him it was all so well known that when Alder heard the word "house", he saw in his mind this one - sturdy wooden walls dark from age, mother's well-scrubbed oven where he used to wait for a treat, the armchair near the fireplace where father always repaired nets... How else were people supposed to live?

But that, of course, was a child's thought. He knew better now. The singer, wherever he came from, did not live like this. Alder guessed it before and knew he was right by the man's curious looking around. Suddenly he became anxious. Theirs was a good home, but was it too alien to the singer? Would he want to stay, at least for dinner?

Mother came out from the kitchen and with her came the food smells. Only now Alder noticed just how hungry he was.

"Welcome, friend," mother said, "you're just in time for dinner." Alder warned her about the guest, and asked her not to question him too much, so now she just showed him the place to sit. The man gave her a small bow and then sat down obediently.

Nobody else seemed to be in, so when mother called him to the kitchen, Alder smiled at his guest and said "I'll be back soon."

"At least

you

're back," his mother said in a slightly annoyed tone. "The rest of them are off to do their own things, and no thoughts about me! Nobody wants to bother and to help me set the table!"

Alder kissed her cheek and said "I will help you, mama, don't worry about that."

She smiled at her son, shaking her head slightly. "Oh, you're all grown up, Alder..." Suddenly her face became troubled. "And that poor man! I wonder whether his ship was lost in a fire..."

"I don't know," Alder answered honestly. "I did not want to trouble him with questions." Mother's theory made sense, but... how long ago was it? He had the feeling that the man was wandering down the coast for a very long time. Of course, his nervousness around people might be explained by being hurt and lost...

"We must make him to stay the night," his mother went on. "I won't finish everything till tomorrow..."

"Sorry, mama, what are you talking about?" Alder asked, a little baffled.

"His clothes, of course! I can't let anyone leave my house looking so scruffy!"

Alder chuckled, feeling a little sorry for the poor stranger. When he was little, mother never let him go out with even the slightest tear or spot on his clothes. Later he learned to slip away, but whenever mother could she still inspected all the family members leaving the house.

Loaded with plates, Alder returned to the room, smiled at his guest and started setting the table. He did not notice the man getting up, so he almost jumped when the soft voice behind his back said "I could help you, Alder..."

"No-no-no, sit back and relax!" Alder's mother exclaimed, appearing from the kitchen with more plates, knives and forks. "You're a guest, so you don't have to worry!"

The stranger stepped back with an even softer answer "It wouldn't be a worry," but he seemed disinclined to argue with the mistress of the house.

Finally the table was set to mother's satisfaction and, right on cue, Alder's youngest brother Til ran in. "I'm hu-ungry!" he yelled from the door. Ten years old and growing fast, Til was always hungry, so it was small wonder that he had been the first to return for dinner.

Mother went to hush him up and make him wash his hands and face, and Alder turned to his guest. He was still strangely unwilling to disturb the man with questions, but the singer seemed comfortable where he was, and Alder could swear he even relaxed slightly.

Suddenly a new thought disturbed Alder. "Please forgive me," he asked hesitantly, "but... will you have problems holding forks and knives? I mean, your hands..."

The singer looked at his hands as if he saw them for the first time in his life. "No," he said slowly, "no, I will manage. Thank you, Alder..."

Mother returned with a well-cleaned Til and turned to them. "Now you, boys. Time to wash up and change before dinner." Seeing slight alarm on his guest's face, Alder tried to protest, but all was in vain. Mother led the singer away, explaining something about spare clothes. Alder sighed and went to wash himself.

He returned to find his guest dressed in his father's clothes, old and worn, but clean and carefully mended. It was a strange sight. Father wasn't fat - no fisherman was, - but on the tall dark stranger his clothes hung freely... Too thin, Alder decided. He was probably slim by nature, but now he was definitely too thin. Great gods, what happened to him?

Well, at least mother's dinner will do him good. Nobody ever left Alder's mother's table less than full. Alder showed the singer his place, one not far from father - it was usually reserved for guests. And at that moment the rest of the family started coming in.

Theirs was not an especially big family, but Alder found himself glad for today's relative quiet. Everybody was still tired afer a difficult fishing trip, so the talk was not loud, and children hesitated to horse around. The singer seemed to take it all well, and his gaze became distant and troubled only once, when Alder's second youngest brothers came in. The twins Nel and Kars were a couple of ordinary thirteen-year olds, thin boys with reddish hair like grandfather, noisy and boisterous. How could they distress this strange man? Or did Alder imagine the momentary flicker of pain?

Finally father took his place, and everyone grew quiet. As it was his habit, he thanked the sea god for letting them return safely. Then, before everybody could finally start eating, he turned to the guest.

"Welcome to our house and table, friend," he said quietly, and then added "You haven't told us your name yet..."

In the momentary silence Alder heard the answer to the question he had not dared to ask aloud since meeting the singer.

"Maglor. My name is Maglor."


End file.
